Saccharine Crunch
by public static void
Summary: At District Thirteen, Katniss finally lets him get into her mind (and her heart).


A little something for Samantha as part of the Gift Giving Extravaganza 2017.

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Sugar cubes are not only sugar. They are a sudden and unexpected crunching sound in her ears –alarm and surprise– and the hand of friendship being held towards her. Sugar cubes are nonchalance and a fresh smile that reminds Katniss of a shore she has never enjoyed as much as he used to. Then, at the end of her reminiscence, Katniss finds that sugar cubes are the last sliver of peace being cut with diamond scissors.

"Do you think the President knows?" Katniss asks in a whisper. She is in bed with him, guiltily thinking of the lives she condemns with each passing second. The thought of the rebellion winning is quenched instantly. In spite of the words from Haymitch, the blame doesn't rest on her shoulders.

"She always knows," Finnick says. He hasn't removed his hand from her naked belly, and the lingering touch is a sweet thing Katniss can't forego. "Secrets are my treasure, and having opportune information is her peace."

Katniss snorts, turning to face him. While she finds his eyes astounding, she thinks he's too pretty –prettier than her for sure. Yet the sensuous nature of his won over her mind. His enticing fingers, deftly weaving knots in thin strings, wove a net around Katniss and caught the evasive heart others have failed to win.

"Her piece is a lie," she says before he steals a kiss. It deepens; his tongue pushes her lips softly and the blazing sensation takes her by surprise. She has been kissed before, but never like this. "And we're not helping. We should be against her the same we are against the Capitol."

He laughs softly. He is amused and bitter at the same time; Katniss knows because she feels the same.

"The rebellion is a lie too, Katniss," Finnick whispers to her, putting his forehead against hers and smiling. "You are not the Mockingjay, I know. But speaking up won't help you. It will either make you a martyr or an enemy of both factions."

She agrees. The Mockingjay should be a symbol of peace, not coercion. Her days in the arena –the first arena, where Rue died– turn her into a beacon of hope, while inside her there is only the quiet sort of desperation that seems to attract Finnick to her. The thought makes her smirk.

"I will go ahead and say you are thinking about pleasurable things," Finnick says. "Me, perhaps?"

Katniss smiles for him. It's not the usual grimace but a relaxed smile. Her defiance is missing in that moment and she wants nothing more than to lose herself in him.

"If we see something sweet..."

Her words hang in the air between them. Finnick has no hurry to break the silence. Instead, his hands trace circles in her skin again. He has calloused hands in spite of living the last few years at the Capitol. His hard work from his childhood remains forever ingrained in those hands.

"Why did the Capitol let you keep these?" she asks, holding his hand in front of her eyes, touching the callouses and marvelling at the roughness in them. It's different from Peeta's soft hands and heart. Finnick is ruthless when he needs to be.

"The proof of my rough play was deemed rousing to some people," Finnick reveals, wearing a smile that would hide his thoughts to anyone else. But not to her. And Katniss suspects he can't hide his thoughts –those deep emotions that shine through his clear eyes– from Annie Cresta either. The thought, surprisingly, doesn't bother her.

"The Capitol is cruel," she says with a far-away look. "If the Quarter Quell hadn't come, what would have happened to me?"

His fingers brush her hair. The silky mane –that once was a dry braid– has no tangles for him to comb but the smooth motion of his fingers relaxes her. Still, the thought of her in a wedding dress and bearing Peeta's child in her belly irks her.

"I don't think you would have liked it," Finnick tells her, and she appreciates the honesty in his words. She sits up and straddles him, enjoying the way his eyes roam over her body. His attraction to her is a wonder. There is no illusion of a girl who needs to be protected; Finnick knows her strength and respects her. And he finds her hot, which is a bonus. "They sold me to the highest bidders, but you would have been owned by a single man."

She grimaces. "You were right. I don't like that."

"What? Being monogamous?" Finnick grins.

"Being owned."

"The ugly truth, Katniss, is that the Capitol owns us all," he laughs.

She shares his laughter, amusing herself with the idea of President Coin being owned by the Capitol. She might not think she is, but being imprisoned and made to live without the world knowing of her existence... There is no other way to say it.

"It's a shame, dear," he tells her. For the first time, Katniss can see in his eyes the look usually reserved for Annie. "That you volunteered."

She thinks of Prim and Mother, of how hopeless they were when Prim's name was called. She doesn't regret it, but Finnick's right.

"Another Mockingjay would have risen," she says, frowning. His strong hands pull her to him. The warmth of his skin comforts her, even if she doesn't think she needs it.

Yet the thought of Haymitch, Effie, and Cinna trying to keep alive another girl –another symbol– escapes her. Would she have been exchangeable? Is she expendable right now?

"No, Katniss," Finnick says, shaking his head. "Another rebellion would have risen, and it would have reaped another Mockingjay."

He's right but it doesn't make it better. Katniss thinks about Prim being paraded in a dress resembling a bird, singing lies for the Capitol's profit and earning millions of viewers to keep the Gamemakers happy.

"We live in a disgusting world, don't we?"

She chuckles and lets herself fall on the bed, at his side. He turns and kisses her shoulders, her neck, and her cheeks. He doesn't touch her lips this time and Katniss can feel them burning with the same need that burns in her belly.

"I don't want this night to end," she confesses. "I can't go back to being a symbol."

Finnick laughs against her skin, tickling her with his breath.

"That's the thing I like about you," he whispers. One of his hands is holding her against his chest and the other roams her skin. His callouses brush her thighs and her hips, causing her to curl her toes in pleasure. "No matter how much you want to stop, you're strong enough to keep going."

She smiles. Isn't that what she likes about him?

"I have to confess that's what convinced me of this," Katniss tells as if sharing a secret. The mirth in her voice can be heard.

"Oh?" he asks with complicity, grinning.

"You don't think me weak," she shares with him. "What we share... We are equals."

His silence overwhelms her for an instant. Then he climbs on top of her and his eyes meet with hers.

"I could love you," he says. "Maybe."

"If I want I can love you too," she muses, smirking.

There is no denying of the sweet emotions in his eyes when he smiles. It's all she knows from him. Tenderness and courage, and the sweet nothings he speaks to her. They sound like crunching sugar cubes and ocean waves, far away from a buried District and a colorful Capitol.


End file.
